December is hard for me.
Not the cosy, sparkly, matching-pyjamas version you see online — the real December. The one that feels like it lasts forever but somehow still arrives before I’m ready.
In one single month, I have two of my children’s birthdays, my own birthday, the anniversary of my friend’s death, and then Christmas. Joy and grief packed tightly together, with no breathing room in between. One moment I’m celebrating, the next I’m remembering, and most of the time I’m just trying to keep going.
Somewhere along the way, I went from being the happy, fun December mom to the overworked, stressed December mom.
The one who’s tired before the month even starts.
The one snapping more than she wants to.
The one staring at her to-do list wondering how it got so long.
I’m doing this solo, and some days that weight feels heavier than others. The mental load doesn’t get shared. The planning doesn’t magically disappear. And no one else is lying awake at night wondering if they’ve forgotten something important.
Spoiler: I have.
The bastard elf got forgotten.
Not misplaced. Not delayed. Just… forgotten. And honestly? That feels like the perfect summary of December this year.
My December checklist was wild!
I know I need to do better.
I want to do better.
But some days, better feels out of reach.
Work is relentless in December. The pressure ramps up just as everything else does. I’m worked off my feet, mentally and physically exhausted, trying to show up everywhere at once. I’m buying, wrapping, and hiding presents in spaces I genuinely don’t have — wardrobes, under beds, behind bags, places I will absolutely forget about until March.
I wrap gifts late at night, surrounded by crumpled paper and tape, telling myself this is fine while questioning every life choice that led me here.
How I’m coping this year isn’t by being more organised or more magical.
It’s by being more realistic.
I’ve learned that surviving December sometimes means making it easier on yourself, even if it doesn’t look perfect.
I do as much online shopping as possible, because wandering busy shops after work just drains what little energy I have left. When parcels arrive, I wrap them straight away — not because I’m organised, but because if I don’t, they’ll sit there silently judging me for weeks.
I lower the bar.
Then I lower it again.
Not every tradition needs to happen. Not every moment needs to be magical. Christmas spirit doesn’t disappear just because dinner is simple or decorations are minimal.
If December feels heavy
If December feels like too much, you’re not doing it wrong.
Some months carry more than others, and December has a habit of piling everything together — celebrations, expectations, memories, deadlines, and emotions — all at once. Feeling tired, stretched, or overwhelmed doesn’t mean you’re failing. It means you’re human.
You don’t need to make everything perfect to make it meaningful. Your children don’t need magic every moment — they need you, steady and present in the ways you can manage. Some days that might look like laughter and traditions. Other days it might look like simple meals, early nights, and choosing rest over pressure.
It’s okay to lower the bar.
It’s okay to change plans.
It’s okay to do what works for this season of life.
If all you manage this December is getting through it with love and care, that is more than enough. You’re allowed to take up space in the month too — not just hold it together for everyone else.
You are doing the best you can in a busy, emotional season. And that counts.
For the moms doing December on their own
If you’re carrying December solo, please know this: you’re not meant to do everything, even if it feels like you have to.
When there’s no one else to share the planning, the remembering, the buying, the wrapping, the emotional load — it’s heavy. And feeling that weight doesn’t make you weak. It means you’re carrying a lot.
You don’t have to prove anything this month. You don’t have to recreate someone else’s version of Christmas. You’re allowed to simplify, to rest where you can, and to choose what matters most to you and your family.
Surviving December still counts.
Showing up imperfectly still counts.
You still count.
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